Repairing Rodimus
Southeastern States Contents: Rodimus Prime Tungsten Processing Plant Obvious exits: South leads to Gulf of Mexico. Northeast leads to Middle Atlantic States. Northwest leads to North Central States. East leads to Northwest Atlantic. West leads to South Central States. Fly Florida Rodimus Prime is off line and blown to scrap and back again. Yeah, he's not feeling much right now. Most likely learning a few things from the matrix, like how many licks does it really take to get to the center of a toostie pop. Jazz is looking for Rodimus. He had a bit of an idea of the trajectory that he went, but y'know. It's kinda hard to tell, when you have everybody and their brother frickin' calling for help. Rodimus Prime is about five miles from the battle field. If one looks around hard enough, they can see the trees snapped like toothpicks. His body has cooled enough so he's no longer smoking though. It'll take either an exhausting search on land, or an easy search from the air. Jazz has to do that exausting search on land, because he can't fly. And he's catching sight of those trees now. "Five miles? That was one nasty blast. Hope your aft ain't gonna try that again." trudge. Trudge. Crows... Morai.. All harbingers of death on the battlefield. Now why would a medical officer return to the scene of the crime. Well.. She's got a scanner in hand.. and seems to be low flying over the area. Broadcast arrives from the South Central State region far to the west. Broadcast has arrived. Jazz pushes through the branches, being the average speed mech that he is, heading for what /might/ be the impact crater. Just migh. He doesn't notice Arachane as of yet, as he's a little focused on not getting lost in the woods. "If we had a couple more out here, this wouldn't be so danged hard." He grumbles. Jazz? Grumbling? Yeah, he's a little frustrated right now. Arachnae pans her scanner here and there, making notations of residual energy left in the area from the fight. Yes.. she's tracking something for a reason.. and no.. not that reason. The clearing that Rodimus made is visible as soon as one starts seeing all the trees snapped and broken down. Rodimus is actually sticking out from a trench he's plowed. One hand is visible, just hanging out from the plowed up earth. The other is...well, someplace else. Miles away... Several miles away to be exact, Broadcast is rallying up his boxcar Junkion troops to help load up Rodimus if they can find him. Jazz is heading towards the right clearing this time, isn't he? Yep. He starts jogging as soon as he sees the trench. And a hand. And... "Y'know, maybe next time we should put a homing device on ya, Rodimus, that way when ya do somethin' like this, we won't have so much trouble finding ya." Yeah. He knows Rodimus can't hear him. "Man..." Still not noting the non-combatant medic. She's not blatantly calling attention to herself at the moment. He's got other worries right now. Arachnae hnns.. tracking a line through the trees.. "There.." softly to herself as she begins to drop down.. "Nasty business this. But if I can get the scan.. and retrofit.. a little bqackwards engineering... possibly.." Broadcast yells, "We don't want to leave you, but we gotta! All aboard the Rock'n'Roll Express! Last stop Woodstock!" He lowers his head as his shoulder spikes snap together around his head and the rest of his body snaps together to form a rustic bullet train. Rock'N'Roll Express heads straight to where the location of Jazz's transmission was sent. Of course, though, Broadcast is not very mobile. He can speed on the train tracks, but needs to keep moving off them and getting through traffic to get towards the said location. Oh yeah, Rodimus looks goooood. One of his legs are gone, his arm on the other side seems to have been melted off at the elbow. His face looks half melted off and his optics look pitch black and lifeless. At least there isn't a shiny glowy thing half hanging out of his chest. Jazz heads into the crater to try and do his best to evaluate Rodimus's condition. Hell. This looks pretty bad to him. Of course the distraction of hearing someone buzzing the trees... "That better be you, Broadcast. I hope you brought a couplea med-techs with ya, cos I'm not sure what t'do right now." Arachnae drops down, attention more on the scanner, which is showing the degrading after trail of Galvatron's signature weapon. "Hmm.." Contact with the ground.. "Should be around.." She looks up.. optics widen.. "here.." Wings twitch as she looks at Jazz. "Somewhere?" Rock'N'Roll Express is still about a good time away. Hey, this Junkion train is not exactly a speed racer. Rodimus Prime lays there blissfully unaware his life is in danger. A spark fizzles out of the stump of his arm, a sign at least he has a little power. Then it's noticeable, a small pool of energon, Rodimus's energon. That is under him and has leaked out from busted hoses and power coils. Jazz spins around, understanding perfectly that Broadcast didn't have time to make a gender swap between his last transmission, and this point. "What d'you think you're doin' here?" He asks her, optics narrowed dangerously under the visor. "Ya really like t'push it, dontcha?" Mad Jazz. Betcha didn't think that could happen. He mentally notes the fizzle. Hey. He might live. That is if he doesn't bleed out his systems completely. Time to curse the inability to fly again. Someone might hear the music of Lost Prophets booming in the area now. 'Last Train Home' is being blasted from the Junk bullet train as it nears Jazz and Roastimus Prime Rib. The bullet train has a boxcar being tugged along in the back of it. Arachnae still has the scanner in hand and can only stare at jazz for a moment. "Didn't factor you into the equation." Mumbled absently as wings flick behind her. The scanner beeps inquireingly and with the same absent air, she pans it about..and gets a whine-screep from the device.. "Oh.. Eh.. Look.. Not here to fight.. Just here to get some sample readings for a project." Now that didn't sound good.. and she winces, glancing at the scanner. "Hmm.. Still alive..." "Jus' barely. Gimme that thing." Jazz takes a couple of steps towards Arachnae. "I need see if there's anythin' I can do, other than' jus' stand around--" Fight? Who said anything about fighting. "I don't care 'bout your projects, Arachnae, but I do care that I ain't gonna stand 'round an' loose another one 'cos I failed t'take action." Yes, Nae. He's heading for your precious scanner. Preciousssssss. Jazz's visor flashes, as he makes that grab. You evade Jazz's grasp attack. Rock'N'Roll Express might be noticed now approaching the site at a slow speed as if it is getting ready to park. Or transform. He pauses and waits for Jazz to give the signal. Hey, trains do have signal towers. Arachnae's wings snap out as she stumbles away from Jazz, "What thing OH no you dont!" She clutches her scanner to her chest, "Back off!" Electricity crackles around her wingtips defensivly. Jazz would be smart enough to give that signal, wouldn't he? Of course, right now he's giving Arachnae the evil eye. "Scanners are a dime a dozen, gal. Now you wanna help me, or do I start callin' in the big guns t'help me chase ya out?" He pauses, "I know of two mechs that would love ta come an' /personally/ invite ya to get your aft away from here." Arachnae blinks.. "Help you what?" Wary. Rodimus Prime is dying from loss of energon. It does not take a theoretical theorist to figure that out either. Rock'N'Roll Express transforms into the rockstar Junkion that he is. He pauses and flexes as he watches Jazz talk to that wicked Con. Last time he saw her she was drunk. She was hotter when she was drunk... that is what Broadcast thinks. Then again, he is a rockstar. He goes for the drunken femmes. The bullet train twists and snaps around as a loud guitar sound can be heard. The bullet train is transforming into a Junkion rockstar. Oh PRIMUS save us from those who are stuck in labs too long. "He ain't gonna make it back t'Autobot City if someone doesn't help him." Jazz tells Arachnae the obvious. "An' if you don't lemme use the damned scanner, I can't do nothin'-- not that I can do much, cos I ain't no medic. Now you gonna help me keep him from dyin', or do I have t'ask the twins if they wanna have a new plaything?" Optics practically flaring behind the visor now. "'Cos if he dies, I'll make sure that they get you." Broadcast yawns and waits for Jazz to give an order. Yes, Broadcast is a high ranking Junkion, but Rodimus is Jazz's control and problem. He stretches again and ponders an idea of what to do. Arachnae blinks.. looking at her scanner, then at Jazz.. then she blinks again.. "Oh.." Wings tuck behind her, a frown growing on her face as she actually looks at Rodimus as someone instead of just a name to give the enemy.. "Oh..." softer.. The frown grows.. She fidgets.. then settles on a knee by the fallen mech, looking the damage over. "Wouldn't happen to have some energon on you, would you?" still a soft tone as she taps the scanner and runs one on the wounded. "Hmmm.." That medic that she once was tickles the back of her mind.. You know the one.. the one that would fight with a spanner to prevent anyone from passing over the bridge.. She's silent a moment.. then nods, crossdrawing something from subspace. "I can field patch him.. And not a word." "I don't have anythin' in the way of rations." Jazz tells her, backing off a tad, but still wary about her being there. "Didn't expect t'run into anythin' like this." He frowns, "Just what I got-- d'ya need anythin' else?" Broadcast stands still and waves to Jazz. "I got the... boxcar..." It is just a few yards behind him. He ponders calling his troops out at this point. Junkion Boxcar has arrived. Broadcast drops Junkion Boxcar. Arachnae pops a tool kit open. And looks at it.. "I can patch the leaks. And do general stabilization. But without some energy.. can't exactly guarantee a stable trip." Her optics narrow as she unsheaths her talons.. And considers.. "Alright. Come here." She points at Jazz, "Sit right there and do exactly what I tell you." Business tone.. Medic tone. She pulls out some conduit from the kit, sets it aside.. and then reaches those talons into Prime's chest, using her electricity as an arc welder, slowly patching the leaks. "There's a sealed set of surgical clamps in the upper left corner, break'em open and hand them to me one by one." Medic tone. Jazz is prepared to do what he has to-- which includes following those instructions. He shakes his head at Broadcast, and sits exactly where the MEDIC told him to sit, breaking out the clamps, and waiting for the orders. Hey. At least someone knows to take him damned seriously. And since Broadcast isn't a medic, he knows that getting the big guy stable is the best thing right now. Arachnae works as carefully as she can, given the conditions. Every few *zots* she'll pull a hand out and flick debris out of the site. "Clamp." She extends a hand waits for the tool.. and uses it to seal off the area that had flowed to a missing body part. "Haven't had to deal with damage on this level in a while." she mutters irritably, wings flicking behind her. "Clamp.." pause.. the device is used to once more shunt off a larger leak. "Reminds me why I don't like to leave my lab." Jazz shakes his head, "Labs are too confinin'." He tells her, handing the clamps over in a timely fashion. "An' you miss a lotta good things bein shut up in one. " Monitoring. Yep. "So ya haven't been doin' much repairin' lately?" Idle conversation. Idle idle. Really. Arachnae's wings flick again, it's a pattern with her. *zot* *zap* goes the impromptu welder.. "I do a vast majority of the repairs. Just.. havent had something like *this*.. in quite a while." Optics narrow to slits.. "Clamp." Pause.. device is placed neatly. "Can you read med scanner results?" Of course he can read them. Understand them? Well. Sorta. Jazz reads off the results from the scanner as he hands over those clamps. And yes, he might be thinking about how this sort of thing is going to be explained later. Somewhere in the back of his head. Who would believe it anyhow? Rodimus Prime has repaired Kup, so he should have the repair ability. But does he? No. Maybe Hot Rod has it. That must be the reason why Rodimus doesn't. Damn that matrix! Arachnae studies Rodimus for a moment, wings shifting once more behind her. "Alright..." Frown. "Now.." She taps the scanner, aiming itin a wide arc towards the trio of them.. "Keep an optic on these two readings." She taps two quarters of the screen. "If that one balloons over 45% cut the feed. If this one drops below.." a pause as she calculates something.. "15% Cut the line." She hands Jazz an actual set of conduit shears. Then uncoils the conduit, passing a loop of it through a portion of the scanner itself. One part is fitted with an IO catheter tip, and that's slid into a fuel line in Rodimus, a clamp keeping the flow from backwashing up just yet. The other end is fitted with an Io catheter as well.. and the medic opens a panel on her own forearm, sliding it into a feed line with a faint grimace. Jazz nods, taking the sheers, and keeping that watch on the screen. He's been uncharacteristically solemn while Arachnae has been working, and, while he didn't quite expect her to use her own fuel-- he's gonna have to be grateful. "Gotcha. Over 45 or under 15." Arachnae nods. "Very important. If his systems pull to fast, he'll flatline. If I get too drained.." She shrugs.. and releases the clamp. And hisses because a one to one transfusion.. does not feel good.. whatsoever. Jazz nods, "I can read the numbers. Won't let anythin' go wrong if I can help it." Yeah. It probably doesn't feel good. Rodimus Prime does not react at first, but then a small hum can be heard from inside his shattered torso. Life. Rodimus isn't awake, but he isn't dying now. The numbers do not change too much, it drops to twenty for a few seconds, then climbs quickly to forty before it settles at thirty the rest of the time. Arachnae sits quietly.. calmly.. watching Rodimus. Her other hand adjusts one of the clamps inside the fallen mechanism, resealing a leak. "Can get him stable.. Better if you had a medvac team to airlift him out." Tone thoughtful. Jazz shakes his head, still watching the scanner, "Best I can do is get Broadcast an' his team right now. All the air-capables an' pilots are unavailable at the moment." Yeah. There's some information for you. He mentally reviews something, "I think we can rig somethin' up t'make sure he isn't bounced around too much--- an' Broadcast can be pretty fast when he wants ta be." Arachnae watches the feed readings.. "I can use something to seal his frame." Her optics dim and flicker. "Have some expandable foam for triage in the medkit. Hardens to seal the area.. Usual chem's will remove it. Will keep his insides in and more debris from the outside getting in as well." She winces.. adjusts the feed, flexes her hand to push a little bit more into the Prime. "Clamp that off.." Jazz clamps off the tube, and rummages around in the medkit to see about the foam. Expandable foam. Probably a good thing the pranksters in Autobot City hadn't gotten ahold of this stuff. "You doin' okay?" He asks. Yeah. He notices things like flickers and dimming. Probably why he's still alive. Broadcast yawns and leans against the boxcar. "I still don't get why we trust her with the live of your commander. She got trashed at the Olympics." He idly comments on that subject. Arachnae unhooks Rod first, then herself. "Fine." A wry smirk. "You're going to want to keep him as immobile as possible. I'd suggest using all 3 canisters.." She pauses.. frowns.. and pulls some cabling out of subspace. A look about then she fans wings out, removing a set of spars that look oddly reminiscent of helicopter rotor blades. Her wings slowly fold back in behind her. And she goes about straightening Rodimus out, weaving the cable around him and the lengths of metal in a kind of.. well.. cocoon. "Canister.." she holds her hand out. Jazz, efficient nurse, hands over the can. He heard that comment, Broadcast. "Unless you'd like t'do this, Broadcast, jus' get ready to load up an' blast for Autobot city. Okay?" Broadcast smirks, "I can patch myself up. I can sure as hell duct tape his bumper back to his face." He is not really that talented... But he is cocky. Arachnae uses the foam to fix Rodimus to the web-work, sealing his damages and also securing him to the framework so he can travel and not be subject to the jostling. "You want me to weld your bumper to your face, Junkion?" Wait. Broadcast doesn't have a face! Jazz shakes his head at Broadcast. "I'm trustin' her because it's a matter o' life an' death. An' she knows I'm not playin' 'round here." No. He's helping. Yay. Broadcast smirks again. "I have a cattle catcher. Not a bumper. And I can attach your arm to your mouth so it looks like your arm is out of your mouth." Arachnae's wings twitch.. "My patience is not limitless..." She gives Rodimus another look over.. and then packs her kit, slowly getting to her feet. And Broadcast isn't helping! Yay! "That's enough Broadcast," Jazz tells the Junkion. "We gotta get goin'. Now." He stands, turning to Arachnae, "...Thank you." He says. Sincerely. "I won't be tellin' too many people that ya did this. Wouldn't be too healthy for ya if ... some elements found out-- but ya have my gratitude." He's ready to go go go. Rodimus isn't completely out of danger quite yet. Even if the player is about to go pass out. Arachnae gives a shrug, tucking the med kit into subspace. "Yeah, if certain elements found out I'd be a plasma stain on the tarmac. Just pretend this didn't happen." She kicks into the air, albeit sluggishly.. Broadcast does whatever Jazz wants him to do at this point. Well, almost. He will soon be on KNUJ and telling the world about how this. How he had to miss his show to do some secret junk. And Broadcast should also know he saw none of this, and heard none of this-- period. It goes no further, else Jazz might have to do something to him. Of course, most of that would be explained to the lot of 'em on the way back home, but hey. This IS a big secret. And Jazz being scary is a big secret too. He's going to go back to being the lovable teddy bear of the Autobots now.